Rake Beyond Redemption Read Free Page B

found from Sam Babbercombe. But his rescued mermaid, skirts plastered to her legs, was now trembling from the breeze and her sodden garments and from shock. The Silver Boat it would have to be.
    The mare ploughed on through the waves and shingle, the pull of the tide growing easier now with every step, and was soon on dry land. The spaniel greeted them with fuss and fierce barking. And Alexander was able at last to exhale slowly. For the first time since it had struck home like a punch of a fist, when hehad been raising the glass of brandy in a toast to his professional liaison with Captain D’Acre of the Fly-By-Nights, he waited for the sharp apprehension to drain away. And leave him in peace.
    He was irritated when it failed to do so; rather, the jittery awareness intensified.
    So, he considered, thoroughly put out, directing the mare towards the inn, was this the cause of his strange premonition that something was wrong, that had demanded his immediate action? An unknown woman who had come to grief in the rising tide? But if it was, he felt no better for the problem being resolved. The danger was over, but his heart was thudding within his ribcage as if he had just unloaded a dozen barrels from the Black Spectre in a high sea. She was rescued and he would see that she was delivered safely to wherever she was staying—end of the problem—but he was conscious of every inch of her, the hard grip of her hands on his forearms, the fact that she had not relaxed at all, but sat as rigid and upright as if on a dining-room chair. Her hair blown into curls, brushed against his cheek. A momentary sensation. But every inch of his skin felt alive, sensitive. Aware of her.
    Frowning, Alexander glanced down at the curve of her cheek, the fan of dark lashes. She was nothing to him. Simply a silly girl visiting the area, getting into difficulties because she hadn’t the sense she was born with.
    ‘You can let go of my sleeves now,’ he remarked brusquely.
    The girl shuddered, and did so, but remained as tense as before.
    For the second time within the hour Alexander dismounted in the courtyard of the Silver Boat. He looked up, raising his arms.
    ‘Slide down—you won’t fall.’
    He caught her as she obeyed and lifted her into his arms.
    ‘I can walk. I am quite capable of…’ Her voice caught on an intake of breath and she shuddered again, hard against him.
    ‘I’m sure you can. But humour me.’
    She was light enough. Alexander strode into the inn, shouldered open the door into an empty parlour. Drab, cold, dusty, but empty. He thought she would not want an audience of local fishermen when they returned from their expedition. Once inside, he stood her gently on her feet, then strode back to the door, raising his voice to echo down the corridor.
    ‘Sal…bring some clean towels, if you will. And a bottle of brandy. Also bring—’
    ‘I would prefer a cup of tea,’ the voice behind him interrupted. Neat, precise, faintly accented.
    ‘Not at the Silver Boat you wouldn’t,’ he replied, closing the door. ‘There’s been no tea brewed within these four walls in the past decade to my knowledge, although plenty’s been hidden in the rafters over the years.’ He saw a shiver run through her again. ‘Sit down before you fall down.’
    ‘I’ve lost my parasol,’ she remarked inconsequentially, regarding her empty hands in some surprise.
    ‘It’s not the end of the world. I’ll buy you another one. Sit down,’ he repeated.
    When she sank into one of the two chairs in the room, Alexander came to kneel before her.
    ‘What…?’ She didn’t quite recoil from him, but not far off.
    He didn’t reply, curbing his impatience, but simplyraised the hem of her ruined skirt. Ignoring when he felt her stiffen, he grasped her ankle and removed her ruined boot, first one foot, then the other. ‘There, you need to dry your feet when the towels get here.’ Then, catching her anxious glance, ‘Don’t worry. I’ve no designs